


Solidarity

by strawberriesandtophats



Series: In order to make it though [2]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:47:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment was fleeting, but it was a sort of a confirmation nonetheless. Vimes and Vetinari reach a bit of an understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solidarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theCopperCow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theCopperCow/gifts).



> well, it has been a long time since I've posted something in this pairing. So I thought it was a good idea to post this tiny drabble.

Vimes had been in the middle of annoying all the posh people in hearing distance by refusing to stop talking to Cheery Littlebottom with his usual working class accent when in a setting such as this party when he heard the Patrician’s footsteps behind him.

They had the good stuff from the mountains on the drinks table in only four steps distance, some part of Vimes’ brain told him insistently. He shook his head slightly to focus. 

The aristocrats were still staring at him, and Vimes straightened up. They looked at the lilac fastened to his breastplate, at the scars on his hands and face, at the mud on his boots.

You can clean me up, scrub me with fancy soap and dunk my head in warm water and dress me in fancy clothes, but that won’t stop me from being Sam Vimes underneath, Vimes thought. I belong in the streets, and if I get covered with mud and dirt then so be it. 

“My lord,” Vimes said, without turning around. He could feel the people around him step back when they saw the dark-clad man.

“May I have a word with you, Sir Samuel?” Lord Vetinari asked and pointed at the entrance door with his cane.

Vimes nodded.

“There are days, Commander,” Lord Vetinari remarked casually, placing a hand between Vimes’ shoulder-blades and guided him through the crowd of aristocrats at this damned party, “where I am glad that you are on my side.”

Vimes looked at the man beside him, and the sarcastic, biting retort he had been thinking of disappeared from his mind. The conspiratorial grin on Vetinari’s face and the glint in his eyes was the equivalent of a fist pump from anyone else.

Vimes grinned back.


End file.
